


sex karma

by hibiscus_tea



Series: love drunk [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Keith (Voltron), Collars, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Kitten Keith, Light Voyeurism, Light breath play, M/M, Pet Play, Service Top Shiro, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscus_tea/pseuds/hibiscus_tea
Summary: Keith loves his boyfriend, embarrassing kinks and all.





	sex karma

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the song sex karma because i've had it on repeat for a week
> 
> edit: I literally forgot to do a summary for this

It’s one of _those_ nights, Keith knows.

 

One of those nights where Shiro’s attention wavers from their rowdy group of friends, his beer glass drains and refills, and he sinks into Keith’s side.

 

“Hey, baby,” Shiro says, speaking low with that quiet, goofy smile on his face.

 

There’s a coaxing touch to his jaw, the tip of Shiro’s nose brushes against his cheek. Beer-sour breath and the sweetest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

 

Keith leans into it a little, conscious of the rest of the bar, the raucous laughter of their friends. They’re a little isolated in the back corner of the booth, the rest of their party scooted up to lean over the table and try and steal each other’s drinks. All the same, they’re in public.

 

Shiro’s drunk, hot mouth at his ear.

 

“Hey, kitty cat.”

 

Fingertips slide into the hair behind his ear and scritch softly, Shiro noses at his temple, wanting attention. It’s the same feeling every time, that hot-cold freefall. His stomach turns over with embarrassment- and something _else_.

 

Something else that has Keith curling into his boyfriend’s chest, letting Shiro draw him in. Shiro’s arm is heavy and grounding around him, and a big, careful hand slides into Keith’s hair fully, pets through it with blunt nails that have him shivering and sighing.

 

“Shiro,” Keith says quietly, and he can’t help but touch. Tracing his fingers over the line of Shiro’s throat, touching at the beautiful cut of his jaw, imagining the play of shadows in the bar’s low light.

 

Keith thinks he could fall asleep like this, if he wasn’t already turned on. That’s all it takes, apparently. A few drinks and Shiro’s touch, and the smooth, deep, playful voice he uses when he wants- this.

 

The hand in his hair tightens a little to guide Keith’s face up, and Shiro’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he takes a kiss, and Keith licks into his mouth, wet and hot.

 

When they part for breath, Shiro’s thumb skates over Keith’s spit-slick bottom lip. Dark-eyed, and expression so open. Keith touches his tongue to the pad, strokes his fingers over the soft furrow of Shiro’s palm.

 

When Shiro’s fingers slide into his hair again, Keith lets his hand drop to the warm muscle of Shiro’s thigh, tilts his head for a kiss again and slides up the inseam. The jeans are a little rough under his palm, but his fingers meet the hot swell of Shiro’s cock where it’s tucked half-hard. Can’t mask the thick little moan he breathes out against Shiro’s mouth.

 

There’s sharp exhale, and Shiro leans their foreheads together. His wet mouth catches the light, and his lips are a little fuller from Keith’s kiss. He smiles, and Keith’s heart rises in his chest.

 

“I think we should get out of here,” Keith tells him low and happy, strokes two fingers over the curve of the head through Shiro’s jeans to emphasise his point.

 

Shiro grabs his wrist carefully, tangling their fingers together instead.

 

“Yeah?” He teases with that low, sweet voice of his. His palm is warm and big, his gaze half-serious when he meets Keith’s eyes. “You gonna come home with me, kitten?”

 

“You mean to our apartment?” Keith asks him, but Shiro knows he’s got him.

 

He strokes a finger down the bridge of Keith’s nose, swoops down the little dip above his top lip, gives him a wet, chaste kiss like he can’t help it.

 

“You’re the cutest stray little kitten, and you’re going to let me treat you right,” Shiro tells him with a smile, strokes the softness of Keith’s mouth, doesn’t mind when Keith outright laughs at him.

 

Instead, he nuzzles their noses together, cups the blazing flush at Keith’s cheeks.

 

“You’re lucky I like you,” Keith whispers, and Shiro kisses him, laughs against his mouth.

 

“Baby, I know it.”

 

*

 

They make their excuses, although even to their drunk friends, it must be clear as day why they’re taking their leave, especially when Keith takes the opportunity to grope his boyfriend’s ass as they make it out the door.

 

The bus ride is quiet, although the intent way that Shiro strokes his hair, rests a steady hand at the back of his neck - it doesn’t do anything to abate the anticipation curling in his stomach.

 

And it’s Keith, in the end, who roots through the box in their cupboard to pull out the soft, dark kitten ears on their thin headband. He slides it into place, snaps a worn leather collar in place around his neck, and strips his shirt off to the floor.

 

It’s one of their easier ones - soft, padded black leather with smooth, matte studs and an unassuming loop at the front to fit a lead to. Keith fingers it absently as he settles on the bed. Strips off his jeans while he’s at it, too, and drops them over the side.

 

Shiro appears from the bathroom seconds later, barefoot and shirtless. He goes dark-eyed when he sees Keith settled on the sheets, and takes a running jump onto the mattress, and Keith finds himself scooped up into Shiro’s arms as they almost roll right off the edge of the bed.

 

Shouting with laughter, Keith pushes half-heartedly at Shiro’s broad shoulders, but settles instead for just sinking his fingers into the muscle, tilting his head back into the pillows as Shiro’s mouth finds his throat. It’s the smooth touch of skin on skin as he relaxes into Shiro’s hold, wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist.

 

He tilts his head down, impatient for a kiss. Shiro obliges him easily, mouthwash clean and minty on his tongue. Keith sighs into it, smooths his hands down the dips and planes of Shiro’s chest to coax the button of his jeans open, pulling the flies wide to frame the bulge of his cock in those tight grey briefs.

 

It’s a soft breath, the slight pop of their lips parting. Shiro’s gaze draws softly over his face, brushes his unruly hair back from his forehead with light fingertips.

 

“Shiro,” Keith prompts, flushing a little under the attention, and Shiro’s mouth curves, his thumbs brush Keith’s pink cheeks and then squish them together.

 

Keith feels his cheeks heat further, and Shiro beams at him, tilts Keith’s squished face side to side.

 

“You are so beautiful,” Shiro tells him empathetically.

 

“Shiro,” Keith sighs, cups his boyfriend’s bigger hands where they rest on his face. He can’t bring himself to pull them away though, only swallows a little awkwardly under Shiro’s attention.

 

It’s a shake of Shiro’s head, a quick laugh as he buries his face in his forearm.

 

“No,” he says, bringing his smiling face back into Keith’s view, shaking his head. “No, come here baby.” Keith lets himself be drawn in for a kiss, smacks his own hands lightly over Shiro’s cheeks to achieve the same effect.

 

“No, what?” Keith asks.

 

“No…” Shiro tells him, smoothing his steady hands down to Keith’s shoulders, takes his mouth down the lines of Keith’s chest, leaving Keith’s fingers to trail into his hair. “You’re too much, baby.“ A feather-soft kiss to a freckle at the curve of Keith’s ribs. “You do… crazy things to my heart.”

 

Soft and truthful, Keith hides the flip of his chest by sitting up, drawing Shiro’s mouth to his for a kiss.

 

“Shut up,” he whispers, grabs artlessly at Shiro’s ass to shift the mood. “I thought you were gonna take care of me.”

 

He watches Shiro’s expression go soft around the edges, draws a fingertip at the velvet skin under his eye to watch his lashes flutter.

 

“Mm, I did,” Shiro says, propped up on his elbows. He hooks his finger carefully in the little loop at the front of Keith’s collar, brings Keith up into a kiss. Just that little edge of control has Keith relaxing, going pliant for the slow curve of Shiro’s tongue.

 

“Good kitty,” Shiro whispers, and Keith sighs a little, strokes his hands over the warm rise and fall of Shiro’s bare chest. “My sweet little kitten.”

 

Keith feels the finger unloop from his collar, sinks back to the pillows and watches as Shiro brings it to his soft, kissed mouth. Breathing a little louder now, Keith opens his lips and slowly sinks his teeth into the offered finger, dark-eyed.

 

Shiro’s serious, struck face is so handsome in the low light, the bedside lamp touching the curves and planes of his face. Keith lets him have his finger back, opens his mouth and lets Shiro slide it over his tongue this time, closes his lips around it and sucks obediently.

 

He feels exposed under Shiro’s gaze like this, working his wet and filthy at the underside, trying to be good.

 

Shiro’s finger draws out, rubs the mess of his spit over his parted mouth, and then leans down and kisses him. A wet finger flicks over his nipple. Shiro plays with his chest until Keith is gasping into his mouth, hard in the cotton fit of his underwear.

 

“Shiro,” he says, shifting a little on the sheets, needy without voicing it yet. And just like he promised, Shiro takes care of him.

 

Keith watches as Shiro rises to his knees, and grabs him by the hips, finding himself flipped with his face in the pillows. His hips are drawn up roughly, his knees finding purchase in the sheets.

 

Shiro’s hand is in his hair, pushing his face into the pillows, and Keith luxuriates under the roughness with a groan, curling his fingers into the mattress, arching his back. Like a good kitty.

 

And Shiro tells him that, low-voiced, a hot breath against flushed cheeks, as he sinks his fingers into Keith’s hips and grinds the thick of his erection against thin cotton.

 

The heat of Shiro’s cock at the crack of his ass is enough to make Keith groan into the sheets, the hot, wanting breath pushed out of him. It’s big hands at his waist, Shiro’s scent on the pillow, the every rut of Shiro’s hips has the waistband of Keith’s briefs rolling down until it’s bare skin against the wet spot of Shiro’s needy-hot cock against his skin.

 

It’s rough and real enough to have little noises pushing from the panting close of Keith’s throat, and he reaches back with a scrabbling hand to yank down the fabric to his thighs. Shiro pauses to do the same, and Keith’s heart beats around the rushed, heavy breaths behind him.

 

He’s expecting the bare press of that thick, full cock, but instead he feels Shiro’s hands stroking his thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive insides.

 

“I can’t believe I found you,” Shiro says, and Keith rubs his face into their sheets, demure. It’s a front. He wiggles his hips a little for attention, wants Shiro’s hands on him where it’s starting to ache.

 

“See?” Shiro breathes, strokes the small of Keith’s back, knuckles brushing the curve of Keith’s ass where he must be working himself over to just the sight, and his own well-placed words. “So well trained already.”

 

Keith arches into the touch, reaches between his thighs to take his own dick in hand, where it’s hard and flushed, hums and sighs a little at the contact.

 

There’s the wet dribble of spit landing on the dip of his ass, and then Shiro’s strong fingers are smoothing it back over his hole, getting him wet enough to play with a little.

 

“Who owns you, baby?” Shiro asks, all soft and low. Sweet, with the way he’s touching at Keith’s twitching rim, rubbing over it, pressing in with just fingertips.

 

This is the point of no return. This is what he does for the man he loves. Keith swallows at the little preemptive flurry of embarrassment, twists his fingers in the sheets, and gives a plaintive, warm-honey meow.

 

“Oh, fuck. Keith,” Shiro manages. He searches for something in the sheets, and then there’s the telltale snap of the lube cap, and slick is drizzled straight from Shiro’s fingers.

 

One finger sinks in right away, thick and perfect.

 

“Aren’t I glad I picked this lost little kitty off the street,” Shiro sighs, and Keith fucks his hips back against the twist of one finger, and then two. Pushing him open until the blush burns at his shoulders, at the back of his neck, it feels like.

 

He’s easy for it, brows furrowed as Shiro twists dripping fingers inside him. He can feel the way his hole clings to those well-shaped knuckles. The collar presses at his adams apple when he swallows, the ears brush against the pillows and make him feel-

 

“Gonna take such good care of you sweetheart.”

 

 _Loved_.

 

Three fingers slide inside him easily, tugging, twisting at his needy rim, a thumb brushes at his perineum with every corkscrew pass.

 

It feels too good, it’s too heady not to whine, make another, blushing little mew.

 

Those perfect fingers leave him, open and empty. Before Keith can raise his head from the mattress, Shiro is collapsing beside him, coaxing him with firm, eager hands to climb on top of him.

 

Keith lays himself out on that firm, strong chest, sighs happily as strong arms wrap around him. His back is pressed to Shiro’s front, Shiro’s smile pressed to his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Shiro’s nose nuzzling into his unruly hair, brushing the velvet-soft kitten ears.

 

Keith’s legs are drawn wide as Shiro’s part, and he hums his contentment with the messy, hot kisses laid on the curve of his neck, with the filthy slick of Shiro’s fingers in his hole. It’s easier to work his hips against them like this, easier to blush at the laid-out want of his own body on display like this.

 

A knuckle strokes his cheek, a chaste kiss to the blush like Shiro can soak up all his quiet embarrassment.

 

“Put my cock in, baby,” Shiro tells him, strokes over his open hole with wet fingers as Keith reaches between their thighs in a slight fumble. He cups Keith’s balls in his hand, curled so lightly as Keith guides that big, thick cock to his flushed rim. It’s an achy sigh, his eyes falling shut as he presses the messy head against and _in_ , works his hips and sighs at that edge of fullness _._

 

“There you go,” Shiro breathes, his hand a little clumsy, a little heavy at Keith’s throat. It’s good, it’s so good. And when his hips move, pushing his cock all the way in, it’s even better with the way his muscles move against Keith’s body, the breaths heavy with exertion and anticipation against Keith’s skin.

 

It pushes a muffled, achy moan from Keith’s lungs, feet planted in the mattress as he rides the push and fuck of Shiro’s perfect, flushed cock, and Shiro rises up to meet him halfway.

 

Obscene wet noises, and the slap of hips, offset by Shiro’s soft, sweet kisses to his cheek, the heavy hand at his throat and the stroke of Shiro’s thumb over his skin.

 

“That’s perfect, kitten,” Shiro whispers, and Keith shakes out a sigh so helpless and whiny that his stomach flips, his cock twitches.

 

He grabs at his own thigh for something to do, digs his fingers in over the flex of muscle.

 

“Fuck,” he swears when Shiro’s steady hand moves from contentedly cupping his balls to stroking his cock, palm slicked with leftover lube.

 

The other hand moves from his throat to hold his chin, two fingers pushing into his mouth, almost to the back of his throat, catching him by surprise enough to make him choke a little. Shiro doesn’t apologise and Keith doesn’t want him to. He sucks messy until spit is at the corners of his mouth, until his lips are messy and full.

 

“Baby,” Shiro sighs, presses adoring kisses along Keith’s pinked shoulder, his bared neck.

 

“Can I hear you?” Shiro pleads, deep and begging, sweet where he thumbs at Keith’s chin. His hips are relentless, and a slight shift brings his cock right to that liquid-hot spot. “Baby, let me hear you.”

 

And Keith _wails_ , muffled around thick fingers.

 

Shiro draws them out immediately, breathing hard, dragging spit over Keith’s chin.

 

“Oh my _god_ , baby,” he rumbles, wraps an arm firmly around Keith’s chest and _fucks_ him.

 

It’s impossible to choke back the sounds. The rough, aching little noises just on the full edge of breaths, the shattered cries knocked loose from his throat. “Ah!” Keith wails, vocal now as he draws his knees up to his chest and lets himself squirm and cry and be fucked.

 

He’s so noisy, and pressing his own fingers over his swollen lips does nothing to stifle it.

 

“No, kitty,” Shiro tells him. Firm and rough as he laces their fingers together. He throws his weight and flips them so Keith is on his stomach, pressed right into the mattress by Shiro’s muscled weight.

 

Keith gasps into the sheets, digs his fingers into the mattress where Shiro’s pressing his trapped hand.

 

Shiro _owns_ him like this, by no uncertain terms.

 

A sob shakes out of his chest, and Shiro wetly, adoringly kisses the nape of his neck, his thighs drawing up and wider for purchase, his cock buries so thick that Keith can feel it in his throat, struggles to breathe around it.

 

“Fuck!” Keith yells with the first thrust, scrambles for the back of Shiro’s head for something to hold onto, and Shiro bends under his hold until they’re sharing breaths in the damp sheets. Shiro gives it to him so good, fucks his hole raw and aching.

 

“Feels good, baby?” Shiro asks him, really means it.

 

Rawed into the mattress, Keith can barely form words. He chokes on his moans, grips Shiro’s hand in his so tight it hurts. All the same, he manages a helpless nod.

 

“I wanna hear you,” Shiro tells him, messy and raw, “baby do another cute little kitten moan for me…” he pleads, “I know you practiced for me, c’mon sweetheart.”

 

It’s the heave of breaths. Keith writhes on that thick, perfect cock, stomach filling and tensing as he tries to fuck himself on it, and there’s the frantic slap of their bodies to accompany it.

 

The sound comes more easily than words, draws right out of his chest where his heartbeat thuds all the way to his ears and his splayed open thighs. Wild and obedient and sweet, Keith meows. Makes that wicked little sound and draws a genuine, breathless whimper from Shiro’s throat.

 

The collar at his throat restricts his gasping breaths just enough to feel it, and Keith shoves his cheek against the mattress, tugs at the sheets with a wild moan.

 

Shiro grabs for his cock, shoved down between his sweaty hips and she sheets, but Keith grabs his wrist and pushes him away, full and perfect and _almost_ -

 

“Fuck,” he chants, pinned down and helpless, white knuckled at Shiro’s fingers and wrist, “fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

 

He comes loudly, fucking messily back onto the rhythm of Shiro’s thrusts.

 

Shiro must have been waiting for him, must have been holding back because when Keith tightens up around him, he growls, shoves his face into the sweaty curve of Keith’s neck.

 

He comes with a shudder, and Keith is so raw he barely registers it, usually hungry for the flex and twitch of Shiro’s cock emptying inside him. Those frantic thrusts slow, indulgent as Shiro pants against his neck, nuzzles his way into Keith’s hair and takes a big, slow inhale.

 

Pinned by broad shoulders, Keith gets his breath back in the sheets, swimming warm and sweet through the sweaty afterglow.

 

Their hands are tangled in the sheet, and Shiro brings their knuckles up to his mouth, pressing kisses to the splay of Keith’s fingers through rough breaths. Even when he pulls out, leaves Keith open and aching, they don’t let go. As soon as Shiro is on his back, Keith is rolling over to kiss him, arm slung lazy across the gleaming rise and fall of his chest.

 

The lube and come trickles out of him slowly, and he likes it enough that he could go another round. In a bit. Once the breath is back in his body.

 

Keith presses an affectionate kiss on the curve of Shiro’s pec. Another, and another. Feels Shiro stroking through his hair, fingering the soft kitten ears.

 

“So,” Shiro says eventually, and there’s a telltale smile in his voice. Warm enough to tip into, freefall. “What do you think, baby? Gonna stick around?”

 

“Yes,” Keith answers, simple and quiet with the voice fucked out of him.

 

For a moment, Shiro’s hand in his hair stills, expecting a tease back.

 

“I don’t think I could walk out of here if I tried,” Keith huffs, heartbeat scattering in the wake of Shiro’s soft, pleased laugh.

 

“Good,” Shiro tells him. Keith tilts his head up to see the his open, pleased expression. A little smug at the pretty curve of his smile.

 

“Good,” Keith echoes, smiling. The collar comes off with a second or two of Shiro’s fumbling, the ears following with the slightest pout.

 

A kiss is all it takes to soothe the jut of that bruised bottom lip. Shiro sinks into it, easily.

**Author's Note:**

> this is for me and probably the two other people out there who are into this specific brand of.... something
> 
> you can find me [here](https://vers-shiro.tumblr.com/) (:


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